


Trench Warfare

by fiveainley_ohmy



Series: Angel Of The Battlefield [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time Topping, M/M, Okay John's a bit of a power bottom, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Soldier!John, War, angel!Sherlock, bottom!John, top!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Am I going to hell," John asked with a wry grin, "for debauching one of God's warriors?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trench Warfare

John could barely think but for the explosions around him, tossing up the sod. He slid down in the dirt, scrambling to reload his gun.

Another blast, and he heard one of his platoon mates cry out. John clenched his eyes shut, forcing the tears back where they came from.  _Please, God, let this be over_ , he begged silently.

It was rather silly, John supposed, praying to a deity he'd stopped believing in around 13 - even when he had ample proof it existed. But perhaps there was some tiny shred of faith inside him that kept him believing. That kept bringing his guardian back to him over and over.

Having loaded his rifle again, John looked back over the edge of his little dug out in the ground and took a shot. Another. Another. The battle continued.

And all of a sudden, he was laying on his stomach on lovely, soft green grass. His gun, his mates, the din around him had dematerialized. They sky above him was calm and blue.

John gasped. He'd never be used to this. He rolled over, looked around. His eyes finally landed on what they were searching for, and he gave an exasperated sigh - though he wasn't unhappy at all. "You could give me a little warning when you do that, you know," he said.

"Sorry," said the entity, sitting a few feet away at the base of a shady tree. "I'm supposed to be fleet of wing, to remain unseen."

"Your brother's rule, right?" said John.

The other man smiled ruefully. "You can't argue with an archangel, John. Especially not one as pretentious as Mycroft."

John crawled toward him. "And what danger were you saving me from this time?"

"A sniper's bullet," whispered Sherlock, touching the shoulder of John's combat fatigues. "About to pierce you...right here." His finger trailed along John's outer breastbone.

John took the angel's hand and kissed his fingertip. "That's not exactly life threatening," he murmured, and kissed the other fingertips as well.

"No," Sherlock admitted. "But I don't want to see you hurt."

"Hmm..." John kissed a trail up the angel's long neck, at the base of his ear (Sherlock shivered), along his cheek, finally ending right in front of his full, sensuously parted lips. Hovering teasingly, so that his breath tickled the man's skin as he spoke. "And that's the only reason?" he rumbled.

"No...I wanted to see you too," Sherlock whispered.

John smiled, closed his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed that gorgeous mouth dangling in front of him. Sometimes John thought getting to kiss Sherlock was the only good thing to come from this Goddamn war.

"Language," Sherlock gently admonished against his lips, reading his thoughts again.

"Don't listen then," John replied, kissing him again. And again, and again...

Sherlock willingly opened his mouth to John's questing tongue, and John reveled in the sweet, ethereal taste of him. Sherlock moaned quietly against him, stroking his hair with his large bony hands.

"Sherlock," John whispered, thick with desire. His prick was already three quarters hard.

"John...let me take care of you...the way you've done me." Sherlock lifted the hem of John's olive green tee over his head, depositing it on the ground carelessly. He pressed his lips to John's jawline, kissing down his neck. John sighed, his head tilting back slightly to accommodate. Sherlock continued down his chest to his nipple, where he suckled reverently. Everything Sherlock did was so focused, so full of intent.

The soldier exhaled his pleasure, petting his lover's curls. "Am I going to hell," John asked with a wry grin, "for debauching one of God's warriors?"

Sherlock smiled wickedly. "Oh I was quite a dissatisfactory Angel of the Lord before I was assigned to protect you, John Watson. All you did was introduce me to the joys of the flesh."

Sherlock had been so chaste, so innocently ignorant the first time they'd made love. Now he was touching and caressing him like he was born to do it, like a concert violinist handles their instrument. He knew just where to touch him to make John moan and his cock strain. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock slid down his body, opened John's fly and pulled him out. He wrapped his lip around the head of him and sucked, teasing the pre-come from his slit.

"Ah," groaned John, his fingers in the angel's curls. "Sherlock, please..."

Sherlock obediently took more of him in, and he gently cupped John's bollocks as he did, rolling them in his palm which had the pleasant tingles coarsing through John's veins intensifying. "Oh, you lovely, clever thing," John moaned, his hips arching slightly, seeking more of that wonderful wet fleshy heat.

Sherlock had such a talented tongue. He knew exactly where to lick and lap and tease to drive John insane. Pretty soon, John could feel himself getting close. "You wanna fuck me, baby?" John murmured, stroking the angel's soft hair. "Wanna feel you so deep inside me."

Sherlock moaned, pulling off of John's cock and nodding.

John pulled some skin cream out of his bag that he used to keep his hands from getting dried out and handed it to him. "Careful, baby...ah, that's it," he sighed as Sherlock gently slid one of his long fingers into him. "Nice and easy."

Sherlock was inexperienced with this as well, but he was a fast learner and picked up the technique quickly. Soon he had two fingers inside John, scissoring and stretching him. The two were kissing steadily, like there was no rush, no war, no Heaven...just the two of them. "Take off your clothes, Sherlock," John rumbled. "Please?"

Sherlock pulled the scarf from around his neck, then shrugged out of the midnight blue Belstaff. John, impatient, helped him out of the suit jacket and silk shirt. "Why do you people have to wear so many layers?" he grouched. Sherlock laughed.

Finally they were both naked and John was straddling Sherlock's lap, sliding down his cock. "Oh God, Sherlock..."

"Don't bring up my father while we're making love, John," the angel joked, holding John close.

John swatted him. Then he began riding Sherlock. " _Ohhh_ ," the angel moaned, squeezing John's arms so hard John figured they'd leave bruises. Luckily they'd worked on Sherlock being able to control his superstrength.

"You feel good, baby," murmured John. "S'nice..."

They continued this way, a light, steady pace, with Sherlock kissing his neck and chest. His hands were on John's arse, and John was making soft little moaning sounds, sighing in his ear, "Hmm, feels so good, angel...oh Sherlock..."

"Can I...touch you?" Sherlock asked shyly.

"Oh yes, _please_ ," said John enthusiastically.

Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's weeping head and stroked in time to John rising and dropping on his length. John moaned aloud and began to move a bit faster to encourage his angel.

Sherlock's beautiful face was painted in anguished ecstasy. He was biting his luscious lower lip in concentration. "Sh-Sherlock?" panted John. "You can m-move if you want to."

"Don't want - to hurt you," Sherlock struggled.

"You won't," said John. "We practiced, remember? Your powers are under control now. You can fuck me. I'd love it...I-I need it, Sherlock, please."

Sherlock propelled his hips upward, delving deep, hitting something pleasurable inside John. They both cried out. "Yes, Sherlock, more!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock thrust up into John as the soldier rode him hard. The hot, murderously _exquisite_ pressure built inside them. Soon, they were both a panting, sweaty mess. "Sherlock, I'm gonna - I'm about - to -  _oh, yesssss_ ," moaned John, coming hard all over their bellies. Sherlock came with a cry as well, and they fell onto the soft grass in each other's arms, legs tangled, gasping for breath, kissing like mad.

Finally they calmed down, and Sherlock petted John's hair. John felt sleep falling over him, but he stubbornly fought it. "I need to go back," he mumbled into Sherlock's neck.

"Sleep first," Sherlock said. Then his voice softened. "Stay with me. Just for a little while."

"You'll send me right back? Right back to the trenches?"

"Yes. This is a place outside of time and space. In real time, you won't have been gone but about ten seconds. Your fellow soldiers won't even realize you were gone."

John snorted. "Gone taking a kip and getting buggered by the most gorgeous creature in creation while they're getting their sodding brains blown out. Hardly seems fair."

"Perhaps it's not. But none of them are God's chosen, John. And also..." Sherlock smiled shyly. "I'm not in love with them."

A smile grew on John's face as well. He kissed those gorgeous lips. "I love you too. My angel." He kissed him again, then felt his eyelids drooping.

"Go to sleep, John." The rich baritone was like a heavenly lullaby as the soldier drifted off to sleep in the arms of his beloved guardian angel. "I'll watch over you."


End file.
